The Mediator: Four Winds
by thecrazzle
Summary: Suze's life has finally started falling into place... well, almost. With a trip to ancient Athens, Suze's worries about Jesse's eighteenth century etiquette and his fear of maiming her innocence are subdued by an interruption from the Four Winds. C7 UP!
1. Chapter 1

Greece. Ah, it was the epitome of culture - home of the Olympics, of the fierce Spartans and philosophical Athenians, of the Trojan wars and the legend of Odysseus. And can you say hot Greek gods in winged sandals, barely-cover-all togas gracing their tanned and toned bodies, leaf-like crowns adorning their curly-haired heads? I mean, who wouldn't be somewhat thrilled at the prospect of visiting such a primordial civilization as this?

Let's think - _me._

I mean, yeah, the mythological gods bit would be a fairly thrilling prospect, but other than that, what d'you think Greece – or more specifically, Athens – is filled with?

Yep, you got it – dead guys. And not just any dead guys. Oh sure, there'll be the occasional partially modern ghost in need of my – and, of course, now, Jesse's – mediating techniques, but honestly. We're staying in one of the world's oldest civilizations. A place that was basically subject to war and catastrophe as much as it's famous for art and philosophy.

So saying I was less than thrilled than my family, and Jesse, would be a bit of an understatement.

Though, I think Jesse was probably far more excited than any of us. Why, I have no idea. Well, actually, I guess I have some idea. You see, Jesse was born in the early 1800's in Northern California, when the biggest advancements they had in American life were farming and (possibly) railroads. Not that Jesse had been much of a traveler. From what he's told me – and from what I've found out in the history books Doc dug up way back when I'd first moved to Carmel – Jesse was more of an only son, take over the family farm kind of guy.

Like he had a choice.

So, as you can see, he didn't exactly get out much. Although, for the one hundred and fifty-or-so years he'd been dead, he basically followed modern advancements like a teenybopper follows the newest punk-rock band. Though possibly with much more vigor and dedication.

And although you can pretty much materialize anywhere you want to when you're dead, as demonstrated by my father's previously sporadic visits between New York and Carmel, Jesse seemed more comfortable hanging around the Ackerman house for most of his afterlife.

Not that it had always been the Ackerman house, of course. No, way back when (around 1850 or so) it had been kind of a boardinghouse for travelers. Jesse, of course, had rented a room and had been killed in the middle of the night by his ex-girlfriend's boyfriend, Felix Diego. Well, actually, now that Paul Slater and I have altered the course of history (not that they've gone and changed the history books, or anything) Jesse was thought to have died in a mysterious fire that took place in the O'Neil's barn, just out back of the boardinghouse.

Of course, only Paul, Jesse, and I knew that it was really Felix Diego's remains they'd found in a heaping, burning pile after the flames had gone out. Although I felt sick to my stomach at the prospect of that slime ball Diego, or rather, his slime ball bag of bones, being buried in Jesse's place, it was a bit of a relief knowing that Jesse's family would live (and eventually die) with the knowledge that Jesse hadn't run away from his bride to be, the previous common knowledge, and instead had died on his way to break it off with her.

Yeah. Much more comforting.

So, you see, Jesse was pretty darn excited to be getting out of Carmel, en route to Athens, Greece. And its not like it took mucho begging to bring him along, anyway. Well, my mother occasionally reels off her 'isn't he a bit too old for you, Susie?' spiel, but I just smile, shake my head, and thank the gods, if there are any, that she doesn't know how old he _really_ is.

But, honestly, the Ackermans (with the exception of Brad, probably) and my mom were pretty amiable about Jesse's coming along on our first family, winter vacation thing. Although, Andy's kind of scary parenting had kicked in on the way to the airport.

The conversation, with Andy at the wheel and Jesse and I in the farthest seats, me concealing my crimson cheeks behind a veil of loose, black hair, went like this:

Andy: So, Jesse, is it? Where are you from?

Jesse: Carmel, sir.

Andy: Right. You live with your family?

Jesse: No, sir. My family died quite a while ago.

Andy: Oh… I'm very sorry to hear that.

Jesse: No, it's all right, sir. I was very young when it happened. (Technically he was the exact opposite, so that wasn't really true, but it was what Jesse, Father Dominic and I had worked out.)

Andy: I see. Well, how did you meet our Susannah here? (Nice change of subject, Andy, real smooth… wait, _OUR_ Susannah? I really needed to have a talk with these Ackermans, taking possession of my mother and I all of the sudden.)

Jesse: Last summer while we were both working at the Pebble Beach Hotel and Golf Resort.

Andy: Oh, Suze didn't tell us she'd made many friends there. (Cute, huh? Andy chooses to be so naïve as to ignore the fact Jesse and I are _definitely_ more than friends.)

Me: (I though it about time to stick up for myself.) I don't tell you guys anything about work.

Andy: That's true… alright, well –

Thankfully that painfully boring and tedious conversation was brought to an end when my mother pointed out we'd arrived at the airport. The airport in Monterey, to be more specific. Carmel-by-the-Sea was just too small of a joint to house such a big tourist attraction (and private school) as the Mission _and_ a local airport.

Luckily the Northern California towns are so squished together – I don't even want to think about where that conversation was heading.

Back in January, when I'd finally joined my mom and the rest of the Ackermans, my best friend – and only friend – Gina had passed on a certain knowledge to me. Having brothers was a good thing. _Riiiiiight_, I'd thought, rather than said aloud, as it would be the last time I'd see her for a while, and I felt it best to end on an I'll-miss-you sort of note rather than a sarcastic one.

I'd landed hours later and found, to my surprise, that it actually was pretty advantageous having three step-brothers – my luggage wasn't going to carry itself! Not, of course, that I'm too self-righteous to lug around my _own_ bags stuffed full of my _own_ designer clothes and shoes. Nuh uh. I go around kicking ghost butt most of the time – my muscles are pretty well toned enough to carry a few hundred pounds or so.

But hey, if they were willing to do it for me, I wasn't going to complain.

These same thoughts reeled through my mind for the second time in my step-brother-filled life as Andy leaned across his light brown leather front seat and tweaked a little black button, popping open the trunk. Dopey, Sleepy, and Doc all veered toward the back of the car and began unloading all of the bags. My mom and I had the winning numbers, of course, with three altogether. We'd decided we needed a fourth for all of the stuff we'd likely be bringing back, but Andy had insisted we wouldn't be bringing back more than we could cram in our suitcases.

Yeah. Right.

Jesse, too, had shuffled back there, his hunky figure now adorned in a much more normal - though not nearly as chest flattering – attire of a gray hooded sweatshirt with a red NoCal logo on the front, courtesy of Sleepy, and a pair of dark, form fitting jeans.

I couldn't exactly complain, what with the wonderful view his posterior provided whilst he reached toward the hood of the car to dislodge the extra suitcases we'd stacked after realized there wasn't any more room.

Nope, no complaining here.

"Susie? Can you help me with these carry-ons, honey?" my mother wanted to know. With a somewhat disappointedly idle shrug, and one last longing glance at my boyfriend's well shaped tush, I ambled over to the front seat and struggled to extricate the few small bags my mother and I had so lovingly stuffed with healthy snacks, magazines, and trashy romance novels.

So, with the Ackermans and Jesse loaded down with our luggage, and my mother and I carting our numerous carry-ons and gossiping over the latest _People_ magazine issue, we made our way through the airport, my unease about Greece and its ancient, historic qualities subdued.

Temporarily, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Querida_, what exactly is this?" Jesse wondered aloud as we stood in line, waiting for my mom and Andy to get rid of our luggage and make sure we were all set to head on through security.

I rolled my eyes somewhat derisively. Sure, it was cute, Jesse not knowing what simple automated teller devices were, but occasionally, it got a bit strange explaining to your twenty year old boyfriend (or, rather, one hundred and fifty year old boyfriend) that an ATM spewed out money whenever you needed it.

So, instead, I took him firmly by his extremely strong and well toned bicep and drug him away from the Ackermans, toward a nice, cozy little secluded corner, where I proceeded to plop him onto an empty bench. He stared up at me, his deep, chocolate brown eyes riddled with adorable confusion.

It took all of my willpower not to just melt in his arms, then and there.

Instead, I positioned my short skirt-clad bum on the cold, metal bench beside him and scooted as close as I dared. Oh, no, I wasn't nervous around Jesse anymore – well, not _usually_ – but I really didn't think it necessary for my mom to be even more suspicious and motherly than usual.

"What is it Susannah?" Jesse queried, as if, you know, I need an ulterior motive for spending some alone time with my boyfriend. Or, about as much alone time as we can get considering we're sitting outside an airport terminal, waiting to go through security.

Jeez, why does everything have to be so complicated?

I shrugged demurely – or, at least, I hoped it was somewhat modest. You see, my latest issue of some girly magazine left me with a few tips on how to be a 'decorous seductress to please your man', or some other fascinatingly luring title. Of course, shrugging nonchalantly whilst batting your eyelashes playfully was supposed to leave a man's stomach a flutter.

Of course, I'd forgotten the eyelash thing and thrown it in at the last second, which apparently made me look as if a bug had flown into my eye or something. At least, that was how Jesse was looking at me now. As if I really did have a bug in there, I mean, and wasn't trying to seduce him. In front of my family.

And a hundred strangers.

Oh forget it! I decided silently, turning away from Jesse to survey the crowded terminal. It was, obviously, pretty packed, and a large clump of people were positioned in disarray around those television screens they place around airports at random, letting everyone know when their flights would arrive, whether they'd be late or on time, et cetera.

Fascinating, just fascinating.

Really, was it too much to ask that I just stay home during this trip? I mean, my mom and Andy really had nothing to worry about – where Jesse was concerned, anyway - much to my chagrin. He basically held me in high moral esteem when it involved my… well, morals. Because, you know, it doesn't matter how much my body is aching for Jesse's tender, loving touch. Nope, as long as my honor is in tact, everything's just peachy.

But it wasn't as if I could tell my mom, "Hey, I don't really want to go to Greece… no, no, I'm sure the culture's lovely, and it would be exquisite, visiting such a nice, clean city like Athens. But, you see, I'd really rather not encounter any angry or otherwise hostile spirits while trying to enjoy a nice winter vacation with my boyfriend and family."

Yeah, that one wouldn't've blown over too well.

So here I was, waiting to get past airport security, Jesse by my side and most likely wondering what the hell was up with me and my stupid eyelash batting, and my mom and Andy arguing over whether or not her new Louis Vuitton carry-on was really the right size for a carry-on.

Oh, and did I mention two of my idiot step brothers playing hot potato with my youngest step brother, Doc's, laptop case?

"Jake! Brad! Cut that out right now!" Andy hollered over the line that had accumulated behind him and my mother. My mom's hand snatched up her designer sunglasses from where they'd been strapped to her carry-on, and she hastily shoved them over her eyes, turning away from the scene Andy and his boys were making.

Can I just say I'm thoroughly glad that I'd decided to run off with Jesse, effectively detaching myself from this whacked out family that had started drawing in crazy looks from strangers? And security, no less.

That's right. Those big, burly guys decked in cop suits were heading our way, and I swear to whatever god may be out there, I ran away from there as fast as my Christian Louboutin peek-toe pumps would allow.

And let me tell you, that is _not_ fast enough. Especially when your mucho strong boyfriend has suddenly got a firm grasp on your upper arm and is wondering, having not seen what was happening right under his nose, though god knows _how_, why you're running away from him.

"Susannah, did I say something?" he inquired so naively that I had to stop in my tracks and resist turning around to glare at him as I saw one of those surly looking cops heading our way. Followed by the Ackermans, and, at a safe distance, my mother.

Andy did some swift talking and, with a hasty glance at my mother, sent the security guard on his way, assuring him that his sons were just being boys. Albeit, completely moronic boys with no regard to their younger brother's laptop's safety. My mother, realizing she was now out of range of mortification, strolled over and reached out her slender fingers to pat down my curly hair. "Susie, honey?" she said in that motherly voice that always makes me cringe, because Jesse's around, of course. "Are you all set?"

I swallowed the dry spell my throat seemed to be having and nodded sagely. "Sure, mom, let's just get going."

She flashed me her winning, reporter's smile and tugged on the hem of my cute, cross-over top before stalking off between Andy and Doc, Sleepy and Dopey lagging behind morosely.

I turned back to Jesse, whose gaze I'd felt gracing the back of my head. Oh, how I wished he'd look at me somewhere else for a change. Like, my posterior, for example. I quirked a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him, my palms planting themselves firmly on my hips.

The corners of his lips twitched slightly, and suddenly he was beaming at me as if I'd just professed my undying love for him. Not, though, that I hadn't a hundred times before. Jesse strode purposefully toward me and linked his arm around my waist, escorting me toward security.

"Thank you, _querida_, for inviting me on this family trip of yours." Oh no, that dry spell was back. I swallowed hastily, chancing a quick glance up at Jesse's beautifully molded features. And man, was it getting hot in here all of the sudden.

"Sure," was all I managed to choke out as Jesse tugged me closer, my arms dangling useless at my sides when all they really wanted to do was wrap around his neck, while my lips went on a quest for his own.

And when he smiled down at me, his beautiful dentistry-free teeth glowing iridescently as if he were still that spectral body I'd fallen in love with not long ago, I thought, maybe Greece won't be so bad.

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**AN: I apologize for the shortness and pointlessness of this chapter. I hate the word filler chapter, but basically, this one was one of 'em. **

**More action coming soon! I hope… **


	3. Chapter 3

Almost twenty-four _freaking_ hours on a stuffy plane, squished in between Jesse and my mother, and we're in New York. That's _it._ All that boring, tedious, brain-cell killing time and we all this stupid plane manages to do is get us across the country. And not even that, we had to stop at least three times in between. It was ridiculous! I mean, I get that they have to refuel and stuff, but really, _three_? Well, at least we didn't have to wait for the damn thing to power up and what not. Nope, we get to scurry across impossibly long airport terminals and just _barely_ make our next flight.

Exciting as hell, but mostly terrifying. Not exactly the highlight of this trip.

But, with a quick overnighter in my favorite city in the world, which included phoning Gina to let her know I wasn't far from the 'hood, even though it wasn't as if she could hop a metro and come visit, and showing Jesse my hometown, we were back on another plane. This one, at least, would get us to our destination. How long would it take? Hell if I know.

Though, my complaints really ended there, as the seating arrangements on this last plane were completely ideal. Family situated in coach, a mere two rows behind first class, whilst Jesse and I had to cart our (or, rather, my) carry-ons to the way back of the plane where they put everyone whose tickets somehow didn't match the right seat numbers. Luckily enough, that was our dilemma.

"International Airlines would like to sincerely apologize for the confusion," a tall, unfortunately very pretty stewardess was saying as she helped Jesse load up the luggage, while I sat back by the window, my arms cross and my focus nowhere _near_ what she was saying. "Please accept our complimentary movie rights and enjoy your flight with International Airlines."

Jeez, these airline folks really have to endorse their names, don't they? I only nodded, scooting ever closer to the window as I caught Jesse shooting the girl a smile before he took his seat next to me. I knew I was being ridiculous, though, because this wasn't the first time a pretty girl had tried to get his attention. And let me tell you, those have been about the only times I've ever, _ever_, really not minded his eighteenth century etiquette toward women.

Really, you should have seen their faces when he politely declined their sordid requests for company and, instead, wrapped his arm securely around my waist, planting a soft kiss on my cheek and grinning at me like a lovesick puppy.

Oh, it was satisfying.

Though he never usually grinned at me like that - only when he happened to have strange encounters that entailed some sort of action that would shoo them away. I didn't really mind, to tell you the truth. That expression was never really Jesse. Sure, he loved me - which I knew. But he wasn't going to go about acting like he completely adored me (not that he doesn't) and hung on my every word like some ridiculous love-struck teen.

So after he'd gotten comfortable, which included playing with the little chair incliner button and tentatively, if not all together guiltily, snagging a pillow from across the way, and then trying to hide it behind his head. I could only roll my eyes and suppress the small smile I'd wanted to show ever since he sat down.

Oh what the hell.

"Susannah, what is it you find so funny?" Jesse wondered as his now completely visible tanned arms - he'd disregarded the sweatshirt due to extreme heat - began reaching behind him and situating the pillow so it was just right.

"Nothing," I said in my best innocent tone, the smirk still adamant on my lips despite my attempts to turn it into a sultry one that may very well end up with his lips on mine and both of us wanting some more.

Of course, it never ended like that.

"Whatever you say, Susannah," was how Jesse usually saw fit to end things that he didn't feel required any more attention unless it was a completely serious matter or he was genuinely concerned with my well being/sanity/health, or, though this one is rare, he had some sudden urge to wrap his arms around my waste and tug me closer for a sensual, completely enjoyable make out session.

Which was never the case.

I heaved a very belated sigh, if you ask me, as Jesse had already inclined his chair as far as it would go, despite the no-doing-this-before-take-off rules, and closed his eyes. And he didn't even bother to turn to see if I was okay. Which may have been due to the headphones he'd so carefully placed over his ears, silently wondering if that was how it was done, and was now listening to a Spanish music station he'd managed to find.

I knew this because he hadn't managed to get control of the volume and it sounded as if I were sharing one of the headphones.

Don't get me wrong; I have nothing against the Spanish language. In fact, I more than enjoyed it whenever Jesse spouted out his bits, or when he called me _querida_. Though this may be because I actually knew what it meant. Which gave me even more reason to silently swoon over the hunky man beside me that is my boyfriend.

So I couldn't really be mad at him for listening to his Spanish stuff and not feeling concerned about me at the time. It was understandable. Sort of.

After the plane had taken off and we'd been in the air for a good couple hours, Jesse having fallen into a deep slumber by now, I excused myself, not that he would've noticed, and edged around his extremely and suddenly noticeably long legs into the aisle. Glancing up toward the rest of civilization, I noticed the stewardesses lugging out the drink carts in each aisle, and realized the one in mine had already passed.

Fantastic.

Heaving another sigh that was sure to go unnoticed by my not-so-concerned-at-the-moment boyfriend, I hiked my skirt down and proceeded to the back of the plane where the restrooms were supposed to be.

And, of course, it was just my luck that I happened to amble upon a door much like a restroom door, thought apparently lacking the little red and green thing that told you if it was occupied or not, and stumbled down a short flight of stairs into a dim luggage compartment. By short stairs I mean about five or six. And by luggage compartment I mean underbelly of the plane where they, obviously, store everyone's luggage.

Oh, and where the ghosts of perhaps a thousand year old men like to hang around. But in my case it was just one really ancient looking ghost, decked out in a, you guessed it, fashionable toga and winged sandals, those silly little leaf things adorning his hair right above his ears.

And when I say fashionable, I, of course, mean back in those olden time-y days when Greek gods and goddesses were alleged to rule over Greece.

Now, I didn't really think we were that close to Greece yet. If I had to bet, I'd say we were still coasting over the Atlantic, en route. But here was this Greek god looking guy, and let me tell you, he had the god-like body thing down to a T, sitting on my mothers overstuffed, floral suitcase, no less, and staring down at my rumpled form, his expression one of complete amusement.

I'd expected him to at least look as shocked as I felt, though I guess hanging around a thousand years or more, he'd have run into a couple mediators and known that there'd bound to be a few around still.

Lucky me.

I managed to pull myself up and tug down my skirt with as much dignity I could muster, while hiding the flush on my cheeks behind a long curtain of messy, dark hair, before pushing it out of my face and shooting this ethereal hunk a quick glare.

Which, of course, really had no effect on him whatsoever. Other than the fact that he merely folded his arms over his chest and inquired, in this deep manly voice that seemed to rumble the plane, or, as I was about to find out, actually _was_ rumbling the plane, "Who are you?"

I contemplated telling him it was none of his business, but as he hadn't actually been rude to me and/or tried to kick my butt or anything, I thought it best to try to be polite. "My name is Suze Simon, and I'm a mediator. Is there anything I can help you with?"

I expected that smug look he'd been sporting to widen into an even more annoying smirk, but I was clearly mistaken. Suddenly he was standing, his fists clenched at his sides as he scowled down at me. I backed away, more than a bit frightened by his sudden change in demeanor and height. "You, a human_ child_, help me? Who do you think you are?"

"I told you," I reminded him, not at all as fierce and sure of myself as I intended to sound. "I'm a mediator – I help ghosts like you all the time. Now if you'd just give me some sort of clue, or, hey, even spell it out for me, we can work this out and you can be-"

Suddenly the plane began shaking violently, as if we were coasting over a rough patch of turbulence. But I knew better. His ghostly knuckles had whitened considerably, and his eyes were the darkest shade of blue I'd ever seen.

"You think, a girl such as yourself, acting all high and mighty and all knowing, can handle my problems, let alone your own petty issues?" His laugh was a deep, unkind one that rumbled through the compartment. The turbulence wasn't letting up a bit.

"Hey, I'm not who you think I am, buddy," I said, marching forward and poking a finger in his chest.

He promptly clutched my wrist and yanked me forward, so that his face was mere inches from mine as he hissed, "I do not care who you are human. I am Eurus, god of the East Wind, and you have no right to lay a single, filthy finger on me. You, scum of the Earth that you are, return to the man that has so mindlessly let you wander off into business that is not your own, and speak nothing of this encounter."

Whoa. I knew I was dealing with some ancient ghost guy, who happened to _look_ a lot like I imagined a god would, but I never imagined he'd actually be one, let alone _tell_ me he was one. Well, I mused, still a bit shaken from being so close to this guy (or maybe it was the ongoing turbulence that was shaking me), at least I'd gotten past the first obstacle – I knew who this guy was.

Eurus, as he'd so declared himself, threw me back toward the stairs and dematerialized just as the compartment door opened and Jesse stood framed in the doorway. I'd been expected airline security or someone as equally troubling, and was considerably relieved to see Jesse staring down at me.

Thankfully, he looked pretty concerned.

I gathered my bearings, hiked my skirt down again, and glanced up at Jesse, a scowl on my face. His mouth was opening to inquire about my well being, I'm sure, but I cut him off. "Why can't I ever have a freaking normal vacation for once?"

And, of course, I still _really_ had to pee.

AUTHORS NOTE: Thank you so so so so so so so much to all of you who reviewed, I hope you know I really appreciate it!

**FINALLY, some ghostly action! Though not really, more of an introduction. Next chapter hopefully a bit more promising but… er, no promises!**

**-Molly**


	4. Chapter 4

**Ugh don't kill me guys! You have no idea how sorry I am for taking soooo freaking long on this. I've been totally swamped with things, and we've got Sophomore Project now (should actually be doing that, oops!) but I feel guilty about ditching this, as it's about the only fanfiction I have going that I actually love writing, so here's the next chapter, and I promise I won't take so long next time!**

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"Susannah, what on Earth is happening down here?" Jesse wondered, in that silky smooth voice I loved, as he held out a hand to help me up the steps. Really, like I can't manage a few stairs. I figured his chivalry was pretty thoughtful, even if he was really only doing it out of habit and not out of love and concern and all that other junk.

Or maybe I was wrong.

His hand folded over mine, and my foot wasn't even on the carpeted interior of the plane before Jesse pulled me toward him and engulfed me in this incredibly warm hug. I know, I know – a _hug_. But come on, at least it was something, right? After a couple years of, well, basically nothing, a hug was promising.

Though if I were being honest, I'd rather he just drop all this virtue crap and plant a big one on me, but to each his own I guess.

I snuggled closer, taking advantage of this opportune closeness, but he pulled away lightly and held me at arms length, his brows knitted together and eyes squinting slightly as he tried to gauge my expression. I'm sure he was wandering what the hell I was doing down there, but I wasn't quite sure I wanted to tell him about the ghost god or whatever he was.

But suddenly Eurus' warning stuck clearly in my head - _speak nothing of this encounter_ – and I felt fully inclined to disobey.

In fact, I was practically jumping with anticipation as Jesse led me back to our seats. I would've told him right away, but he didn't give me enough time to answer as he prattled off questions about my well being and wondered how on earth I managed to get lost on an airplane.

Suddenly I wasn't quite as eager to divulge any information if he was going to treat me like a naïve puppy, albeit lovable and completely adorable, who always managed to get itself into trouble.

Really, it was only _occasionally_ that I'd gotten myself in really deep. And I'd gotten out, hadn't I?

"Jesse, I ran into a ghost," I threw out there as soon as he gave me the opportunity.

His mouth had been poised to scold me now, I was quite sure, as his brows were furrowed in a completely different expression than they had been, but my statement threw him off and his unspoken words hung there for a moment, on the edge of his perfectly sculpted lips.

Sometimes, I really wondered if he hadn't been a god himself.

His eyes widened considerably then, but before he spoke, he glanced around surreptitiously. Once it had been decided there was really no one around to eaves drop, he leaned forward and said in a low voice that I could barely make out, "Are you quite sure about that?"

Was I _sure_ about that? Right, because I've only been dealing with ghosts for more than half my life. It was only natural that I couldn't tell the difference between the supernatural and humans now.

As _if_.

"Of course I'm sure!" I hissed back, following his lead and keeping my voice to a quiet whisper, albeit an indignant one. One dark brow – the one with the pearly white scar running through it – rose inquisitively, and I heaved a sigh. "I know what ghosts look like, Jesse – and besides, I don't think any _normal_ person would hang around in a plane's underbelly, decked out in Greek god garb, complete with strappy sandals and everything," I pointed out impatiently, as if he'd been there and had just missed it all.

"That is a bit peculiar," he admitted softly, though it seemed as if he were thinking to himself now, no doubt wondering why on earth an old ghost would be hanging around an airplane. As far as both of us knew, technology such as this beauty we were currently being transported on hadn't been around till the New World, and even then it had taken quite a while to get where we were now.

I had to admit, though, that none of it made any sense. Maybe Eurus had known there was a mediator on board? That seemed plausible – ghosts often knew where to find help, though I hadn't a clue why and mostly wished they didn't.

Another snippet of our callous conversation stuck out in my head. He'd called me a foolish little girl, or something along those lines, and told me to run back to the man that had let me loose. A new surge of indignant fury seared through me, but I suppressed it as an idea struck. "Jesse," I started again, and he glanced up, reluctantly pulling out of his own thoughts. "I think he wanted to talk to _you._"

Hey, it made sense to me. Jesse didn't look too sure about it though. I didn't know _why_ – he was a mediator now, after all, and he had much more experience in the supernatural department than I did, having been a ghost for over one hundred and fifty years.

Before he could object, I pressed on, "Hear me out, okay? He told me I was just meddling little girl and that I couldn't handle his problems. Obviously he _has_ some, if that was any indicator, and he's here seeking out a mediator! But he apparently has some of those sexism issues men seemed to favor in the old days," at this, Jesse made a noise of protest but I didn't let him interrupt me (I knew _he'd_ never had any), "so I think he was looking for _you_. Not that I mind," I added, quite happily. "I'm perfectly content staying away from this ghostly business…"

Jesse held up a hand, stemming my now pointless ranting. I ceased, watching his elevated hand warily as he lowered it over my own, his thumb immediately tracing circles in my open palm. He usually did this to calm me down, so I wondered why he was doing it now. I wasn't over-excited or infuriated or anything like that. But as soon he started speaking, I realized it was in preparation of the effect he knew his next words would have on me.

"Susannah, I don't think it matters who he was looking for. We need to help this man move on. That's what we do, as you know perfectly well. I'm sure it won't take nearly as long with both of us, and then we can sit back and enjoy our vacation with your family."

I pulled my hand from his grasp, fuming. I admitted internally, though with complete lack of chagrin, that I was overreacting. But this had been _exactly_ the reason why I didn't want to go to Greece in the first place! And here we were, not even halfway there yet, and I was already being bombarded by a spectral being I _really_ didn't want to deal with. Jesse could handle this on his own if he was so inclined to be all chivalrous – I wasn't going anywhere near this Eurus guy, not that he minded, I'm sure.

"Jesse, I love you, you know, but I'm not sacrificing my well earned vacation time to help out some dead guy who _really_ doesn't want my help," I told him matter-of-factly, turning my body away from him – as I'd been covertly scooting nearer in the vain hope that it would distract him the way I wanted him to be distracted – and settled back into my seat. I'd hoped I'd thrown in a note of finality in my words, but apparently that wasn't the case.

He frowned gorgeously, if that were even possible, and cast his disapproving gaze over my face. I cowardly let my own gaze stay put, scrutinizing the knob that held in place the fold out tray as if it were the most fascinating device I'd ever seen, avoiding those dark ocher eyes that I knew would have me caving in an instant, the way they unintentionally smoldered.

Though I didn't think that smoldering would convey anything more than dissatisfaction, much to my annoyance.

I wished I could've snatched up my own pair of headphones and secure them comfortably over my ears, the better to evade him and his loyalty to our 'gift', as him and Father Dom preferred to call it, but I couldn't bring myself to be even more rude to this man I so obviously adored. It was ridiculous, the way he had me acting all the time, with consideration toward others and all that other respectful nonsense. I mean, I knew when I was crossing the line between disrespect and complete ignorance and insolence, and my parents did a fine job of raising me with at least halfway decent manners, but all this newfound thoughtfulness was giving me a headache.

I lifted a finger to each temple and rubbed vigorously, hoping to convey the simple message that no, I did _not_ want to talk about this anymore, as it was paining me emotionally _and_ physically.

He wasn't taking the bait.

Jesse always had that way of staring me down – even if I wasn't actually participating by looking him in the eyes or anything – and getting me to cave on my rather stubborn beliefs. Unfortunately, this gift of his hadn't dimmed at all since he'd gone from ethereal figure to full-fledged human, and I was starting to feel the pressure. I peeked at him from behind my hand, and let me tell you – _big_ mistake.

"Aw Jesse come on," I griped pitifully, finally turning back to him, as really, I had no choice with that horrible _look_ he was giving me. As if he completely regretted his decision to be with me, or something like that; like I was too horrible a person to hang around anymore. Okay, so I was probably exaggerating that. Jesse was way too nice to ever think that horribly of me – though half the time I'm sure I deserved it – but sometimes it just _felt_ that way, and it sucked. Big time.

He knew what he was doing, too. Maybe not to the full extent of my tortured visions, but enough so that he knew he was about to get his way. What a jerk, he obviously wasn't very repentant over degrading my self-image, if the smile tugging at the corner of his lips was any indicator. "Susannah, I'm sorry if this… person," he began, using the term quite loosely, "acted rudely toward you, an obviously hypocritical put off," he added the last bit almost inaudibly, "but I really think you ought to be the bigger person and help him out. It's what we do, _querida_ – we help them move on."

Duh. He tells me these things as if I didn't know. Or rather, as if I needed a constant reminder. Though I guess with my attitude toward this whole mediating deal, he was probably right. Not that I'd ever tell him that to his face.

Heaving a sigh, I chewed on my bottom lip and turned away from him again, my arms folding over my chest as they usually did when I was feeling particularly stubborn. "I'll think about it," I told him grudgingly, as I could still feel that awful stare boring into the side of my head. I heard him exhale sharply, obviously frustrated with my lack of compassion. Well, he was compassionate enough for the both of us, I thought.

Our bickering had taken us across the Atlantic, according to the captain who'd claimed the intercom during a particularly rough bought of turbulence – and my nerves had taken over then due more to the ghost than a sudden fear for my life – and soon we were coasting easily over Europe, en route to our final destination. As if it could've taken any longer.

I was dead asleep for the rest of the flight, something that would've been impossible for me had I not been completely worn down from my supernatural encounter and the short spat with Jesse. I awoke to the bustling of passengers as they popped open the overhead compartments and dragged their luggage out, having not been woken by the announcement of our arrival and the apparently smooth landing. Jesse courteously handed me my carryon but proceeded to ignore me after that. Evidently he hadn't forgotten about our disagreement.

A sigh escaped my lips then, as I knew what I had to do to get him to stop being so sour toward me. And even though it entailed everything I didn't want to deal with whilst in Greece, Jesse and his attention and (lack of) affection were more important to me. I could put aside my differences with the ethereal world and help out one little ghost, couldn't I?

We stalked through the terminal to meet up with the rest of my family, who'd apparently departed a considerable amount of time before we had, for Sleepy and Dopey were stretched out over a selfish number of seats, eyes half-closed as they waited impatiently. As we came upon them, still a significant distance away, I made up my mind, heaving a defeated sigh before I offered myself over to the lions.

"Okay, I'll do it."


	5. Chapter 5

"No, you're right, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Jesse told me in an infuriatingly agreeable tone. I spluttered, unable to force any coherent words out. What was _wrong_ with him? He'd just spent an enormous amount of our plane ride trying to convince me to do the right thing, and here I was, officially deciding that he was right and that maybe it wouldn't take up too much of my vacation, and now he thinks _I'm_ right?

Well I wasn't about to take that. Did he have some sort of complex that he was trying to get over by allowing me to make my own decisions? I mean, I guess I shouldn't be complaining, as this is what I'd wanted in the first place, to be allowed to do exactly what I _wanted_ to do and not what he think I needed to do, but it was just so maddening.

I sorely wanted to complain to him about what a hypocrite he was being, but suddenly my mother and the rest of the Ackermans were upon us, having packed up camp eagerly to meet us halfway. They'd always had such lovely timing.

My mother wanted to rent a car from the start, but Andy, not entirely comfortable driving in a European car, on the opposite side of the road, insisted we take a travel bus to our hotel from the Eleftherios Venizelos International Airport. It only took about forty minutes to get to downtown Athens, and not much longer to reach Hotel Alexandros, the four star place Andy and my mom had booked for our trip.

Luckily they were both pretty successful people, or I'm sure we'd be broke before we returned to Carmel.

The two of them held hands through the lobby of the hotel, ohh-ing and ahh-ing over the décor, the lighting, the culture, the people – you name it. Apparently the atmosphere of a whole different country brought on a more romantic side of them both, for as their eyes flitted over every feature of the room and eventually met each other's, my mother would giggle like a school girl and Andy would flush, evidently pleased.

It was sweet, I suppose, in a sickening sort of way.

Our rooms were spacious and beautiful and on one of the uppermost floors below the penthouses. We'd been forced to book four rooms, neither of us wanting to sleep on a cot or in the same bed as anyone else, so mom and Andy had theirs, Dopey and Sleepy bunked across the hall, I was shoved in with Doc next door, and Jesse had his own cozy, two-bed room down the hall. My boyfriend paid for his stay, of course, with the help of Father Dom.

I would've begged my mom the minute we'd found out about this trip to let me room with Jesse, had I not been sure she wouldn't have let him come at all. Though the way things were going between us he might as well not even be here. He hadn't spoken another word to me since the airport, even though we sat side by side on the travel bus and walked relatively close together through the downstairs lobby. No one seemed to notice the friction between us, which was good, I guess.

Settling into the rooms was a whole other matter. I, for one, with my large, unnecessarily packed suitcases, merely shoved them between my bed and the wall-turned-window and called it home. The Ackermans and my mother took their sweet time, enjoying their rooms and the views while they stowed clothes away in drawers and chatted happily about the itinerary I hoped dearly we weren't going to stick to.

Jesse was the only other person done. He'd offered to help the other guys, but it turned out they were just unpacking under false pretenses – each had followed my lead, deciding to just not bother with the drawers and such, and had plunkered down for the night instead.

I was far too antsy to sit around or even try to sleep, so with a short notice to my mother that I'd be downstairs exploring the grounds a bit, and with a promise to keep my wanderings within the hotel limits, I trudged down the hall to the elevators and stowed away in the first available, my motive for not inviting Jesse being that I hadn't known he was finished packing.

Smooth, I know.

As the doors slid slowly closed, a hand flashed out from nowhere, the light caramel color of the skin reminding me forcefully of Jesse's. I scowled as the doors slid open once more, expecting to find him sauntering in to take a place by my side, but instead my eyes met those of a boy who I'd never seen before, and my scowl vanished quickly. I'd been wrong to think of Jesse, for this boys skin was much darker, as were his eyes and his hair for that matter, but when he smiled at me his teeth were like square, iridescent pearls gleaming at me in the dull glare of the elevator shaft lighting.

The contrast was dazzling, to say the least.

The ride to the first floor was shorter than I'd anticipated, and neither of us had said a word. I was far too mesmerized by the warm glow that seemed to resonate off of him, and he seemed a bit baffled at my bemused expression. The first words out of my mouth were a hasty 'thank you' as he held the doors open and let me slip past him, my heels clicking lightly on the wood paneled floors, though his steps were muffled.

"You're quite welcome," he responded easily, a pleasant smile pulling the corners of his lips up.

I felt inclined to say more – to introduce myself and start up a fascinating conversation, throwing in all my knowledge of this city and country and continent, for that matter, to impress and dazzle him, as he'd done to me with just his mere presence. Of course, I knew next to nothing about Athens, or Greece, _or_ Europe, except what I'd seen on the way to the hotel and read in a short travel brochure on the airplane. And any words that may have tried to slip out in my haste to say at least _something_ got lodged uncomfortably in my throat. I turned away, reaching up to massage it and attempt to coax them out, but by the time I'd turned back, he'd slipped away around the corner.

A wave of uncalled for disappointment washed over me, but I suppressed it, worried as to why I felt so strongly toward this strange man, who seemed a bit to young to be called a man just yet. I forced any inkling of ever seeing him again to the back of my mind and trekked off through the airy foyer.

The ceilings were vaulted and cavernous, and I realized why my mother was so taken with them and the rest of the inn – the place exuded an air of culture you just didn't find in Carmel, California, even with all the old historical buildings that cropped up in the northern half of the state. Greece was different, somehow - unfamiliar, exhilarating and frightening all at once. It left me speechless, not that I had anyone to talk to, really, and I sucked in a lungful of air every once in a while as if I'd just forgotten to breathe.

My wanderings led me over the winding grounds, surrounded by palm trees that seemed so out of place that they fit perfectly with the rest of the scenery. The walkways were carved of gray, uneven stones and led to numerous parts of the Alexandros that I might not have discovered otherwise. I stopped into the restaurant on the north side, the atmosphere warm and inviting, yet it exuded a manner of privacy that was often hard to find in crowded lodgings. I was sure my mother would love it.

It took much longer to find my way back. I'd taken elevators on the opposite side of the hotel and had to trek through the vast halls just to get to my room. I'd only just started upon my twisting course, intent on filling my mother and Andy in with full details of my discoveries, when I saw him again.

I realized something had to have been sorely wrong with my head back in the first elevator. I couldn't think of what I'd hit it on last, but it hadn't been recent enough to addle my memory. My eyes had been so preoccupied with his lovely face that I hadn't noticed the faint, glowing aura that surrounded his whole body, which, I realized now, had been donned in a wardrobe more suited for ancient Athens than present day. Strangely enough, I remembered the warmth I immediately felt in his presence, and wondered how that could be so.

Every ghost I'd ever encountered had given me chills.

My eyes followed him, curious, as his slow gait led him through the corridor, on the seemingly same path as my own. His hands were folded together neatly behind his back, resting on the folds of the toga-like robe draped over his long, elegant frame. His hair sloped lazily past his shoulders, fluttering every once in a while in the ghostly wind that always seemed to emanate from spectral beings. Once again, I was mesmerized.

And, once again, I realized I hadn't taken a breath in quite some time.

I inhaled rather quickly, and audibly, so I wasn't entirely surprised when he whirled around, with such grace that it very nearly took my breath away again, and studied me carefully. He seemed to have recognized me, for he smiled slightly, but as I took a tentative step nearer, he continued his lithe walk, backwards this time, and suddenly he was dematerializing before my very eyes, that haunting smile ever present on his ethereal features.

When I really _don't_ want to encounter a ghost, I manage to just happen upon one, and unfortunately one with a very bad temper. Now, when for some reason I wish for nothing more than this mysterious figure's company, he goes and disappears on me.

How frustrating.

As I mused over these strange circumstances under which I was happening upon the two most bizarre ghosts I'd quite possibly ever encountered, disregarding Jesse, of course, a hand clamped over my shoulder and I jumped, emitting a startled shriek as I whirled around, my eyes wide.

Jesse stood before me, his hand falling to his side, expression unreadable, though I could tell from the way one corner of his mouth drooped lower than the other, and the way his brows only vaguely knitted together, that he'd been concerned about me. "Susannah, where have you been? Are you alright?"

I imagined the last question was due the strangled noise I'd emitted moments earlier, and I exhaled slowly, catching my breath, something I'd been doing far too much that day. "I'm fine Jesse," I said, trying to make my tone terse and bothered, as that had been his attitude toward me for the better half of the day. But I couldn't manage it.

Instead, I stared up into those pools he called eyes, finding myself lost in them for a moment before he blinked, his long, dark eyelashes taking their time as they swooped over the shimmering orbs. And it took me a moment to remember what I'd ever been mad at him about.

But I remembered, all right.

"I'm sorry, Jesse," I murmured, surprising him as well as myself. "You're right, and don't pretend that you agree with me because I recognized that tone of voice you used earlier. You think I'm being selfish and that I should use the extent of my abilities to help these ghosts whether I feel I want to or not."

I said all of this in one breath, and as I inhaled a quick mouthful of air, Jesse slipped his arms around my waist and dropped his forehead onto my own. That breath hitched in my throat as he stared deeply into my eyes. "No Susannah, I don't think you're selfish," he assured me, though I had a hard time believing him. "I think you were burdened with a responsibility that you didn't necessarily want. But you have dealt with it in the past and I know you can now. And you're not alone anymore," he reminded me thoughtfully, his lips forming that crooked smile that I so loved. "You have me."

"I have you," I repeated, my voice a murmur and my tone giving away the obviously different connotations behind the words when _I_ said them. His grinned widened as he caught my drift, and his head leaned closer to mine, his large hands splayed across the small of my back as he pulled me closer.

I caught his lips in my own, too impatient to wait for him to make the journey himself, and clung to him helplessly, hopelessly in love. He pulled back sooner than I would have liked, however, so I knew he wasn't about to partake in a risqué make out session in the middle of an occupied hotel corridor. So, I thought, I might as well tell him about that ghost.

"I saw another one," I told him casually, once he'd slinked one arm around my waist to escort me back to the room. His brows rose curiously and I explained all the way back to the rooms, editing out the me being dazzled part, and most of the first encounter, really. As we each returned to our respective quarters, I felt a minute pang of guilt for withholding some of the information, however unimportant. But as I dropped onto my bed and curled into the covers, I tried to reason with myself.

He didn't really have to know how much this otherworldly figure got the gears of my mind, and my heart, working in the strangest ways.

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**Thank you all for the lovely reviews I've gotten since starting this story, they're much appreciated and much encouraged! I managed to finish this chapter quicker than I anticipated, and though I'd intended to make it longer, this seemed a good stopping point in my book. Sorry if these seem a bit short – but if they become unbearably so, just give me a prod and suggest something a bit longer in the next update. I'd be happy to comply. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

An aberrant, completely unjustified scream ripped through my throat when I awoke that morning to find dark spots of blood dott

An aberrant, completely unjustified scream ripped through my throat when I awoke that morning to find dark spots of blood dotting the crisp, white linen sheets I'd managed not to rumple too terribly when I'd dozed off the night before. But I digress. There was blood, plain as day _blood_, on my sheets. And for some horrible, unnecessary reason, my mind jumped to the furthest thing from any logical truth. For one awful, terrifying, totally unfounded moment of helplessness, I thought I'd been stabbed.

Honestly. _Stabbed_. As if something like that happened _frequently_!

What didn't occur to me until it was too late (and by too late I mean I'd sufficiently woken Jesse from a dead stupor next door and he was now attempting to pound down my door, a fact blissfully unbeknownst to my mom for reasons beyond my comprehension, and thankfully unbeknownst to Doc, who'd gotten scared and went to sleep in his dad's room) was that I was, in fact, a woman. And not just any woman; no, I was an _ovulating_ woman, which meant, as I'm sure all you other ovulating women out there can back me up on, that once a month or so (unless I happen to be irregular for any given amount of time, though it wasn't that likely) a bunch of blood pools in my uterus and escorts that little unwanted egg from my… well, you know.

And it was weird, because right then I knew something was up. My little blood bath was a pretty regular occurrence. I could usually spout out a relatively close time frame anytime a doctor or my mom or someone wanted to know when it hit me next. But this was so utterly unexpected that, for some reason, my mind could only connect it with some strange spectral event, and not just irregularity that happened once in a blue moon or something.

But just why this was, in fact, my period and not some residue from a stab wound didn't occur to me sooner, I've no idea. I assume in my sleeping state I was just about to be murdered by some unforgiving slaughterer with a penchant for stabbing girls in their abdomens, or whatever – the point was, the damage was done. And now I had to deal with the repercussions.

Namely my poor, naïve boyfriend who evidently thought I'd been stabbed as well.

I couldn't blame him, I reasoned with myself as I quickly shed my soiled pajama bottoms and replaced them with a pair of track shorts I'd stolen from the gym locker room – I had screamed bloody murder, for Christ's sake. Thought I suppose it didn't make things much better when I opened the door and he barreled through, spinning around wildly, and happened to notice the blood spots on my bed that I'd inconveniently forgot to cover up.

Whoops!

"Susannah, what's happened in here?" he half whispered, half yelled, eyes widening in such a way that I just wanted to snicker, pat his cheek, and give him a lollipop or something, poor guy.

Instead I put my hand on his arm, lowering it exponentially, for he'd unconsciously raised it as if preparing to pulverize the perpetrator, and said in the softest, most soothing voice I could manage, "Sorry, Jesse, it was nothing – just a little accident is all. The curse of having a menstrual cycle that likes to get a kick out of life by cropping up in the middle of the night. Really, I can usually tell when it's coming, you know, but I guess I was just too tired to notice much until I woke up and saw, well… Jesse? Are – are you _okay_?"

My ramblings, it turned out, only seemed to make the situation worse. Jesse's caramel skin visibly paled, so much so that I almost began wondering if I was still dreaming and this was just Jesse back when he was a ghost and all.

But I was pretty sure even dream cramps didn't hurt that bad.

"Jesse," I repeated, slowly this time, like I was speaking to some deranged person, attempting to calm him down before he assassinated the president or Madonna or something. But he just turned his head slowly, kind of in that scary way that dolls in horror movies do when they're trying to spook the little kids in bed, his eyebrows scrunching up in odd, twisted angles, mouth curved and half open like he wanted to say something. Or like he wanted to hurl, more likely. "Honestly," I tutted, annoyed and only slightly embarrassed. It was enough that I had to deal with this on a regular, monthly basis – I didn't need my own boyfriend making me feel oddly insecure about it.

Royally peeved off by now, I merely threw my crumpled sheet over the stain, escorted Jesse into the hall, and slammed the door behind me. Well, not slammed, per say – closed firmly would be more accurate. I'm not completely inconsiderate!

"Hey, bub, you wanna tell me what your deal is?" I demanded only slightly unkindly, my arms folded snippily over my chest.

"I… sorry, I think I need some water," he managed to choke out, reaching for the handle of my door, and then apparently having second thoughts about it – he turned, instead, and slipped his key into his own room door before disappearing unceremoniously behind it. It closed in my face, which heated up immensely as a flush crept up my cheeks. Really! He could be _so_ insensitive. I turned back to my own door, lifting my key to the lock… except; of course, I had no key to put in the lock. I'd marched out of my room in a huff and had invariably forgotten my key. Wonderful. "Jesse!" I called through the thick wooden door that separated us. I heart his shower running, and I pounded on doorframe and the wall in turn, fruitlessly. He couldn't hear me. And honestly, I wasn't about to go marching down to the front desk, asking for a spare room key, in my sleeping tank top and faded gym shorts. I had more dignity than that, thank you very much.

So I prepared to plop myself on the floor beside Jesse's room, poised to knock my little knuckles the minute the water stopped running. I didn't even have a chance to sit myself down. Suddenly, a voice was quiet and soft at my ear and I squeaked, too surprised to get anything else out of my poor, overused vocal chords. "You are Susannah Simon?" the voice whispered, though it sounded more of a statement than a question. "I am Zephyrus, god of the of the west wind. Come with me." A smooth, glowing hand clamped around my wrist and dragged me down the corridor. By then my voice was in properly working order, and I had a scream nicely prepared at the base of my throat, but when I glanced up into my captors eyes I saw the face of the young ghost man who I'd met the previous night. His looks struck me just as hard as they had the first time, and the scream died in my esophagus.

I was baffled at how _warm_ his palm felt. It just wasn't right. How could this amazing spectral being emit such a toasty aura when it was entirely unnatural? I know, I know – technically he's completely unnatural to begin with, but at least ghosts have their chill to identify him by. I felt like my body was playing tricks on me, and that either he wasn't really a ghost, or I was feeling particularly warm-blooded lately.

Zephyrus – god, what an old time-y name – led me through the stairwell and we were going up, quite swiftly. The floors passed us quicker than I could count, and only when we were suddenly heading beeline straight did I whip my head forward and look where we were going. Straight for the emergency roof exit, that was where. "Hey, wait a minute!" I objected stubbornly, only a teeny bit scared – I wasn't exactly keen on landing myself in any trouble, much less in a foreign country. But we didn't slow, and as his hand reached out to shove open the door, I braced myself for the alarm that the shiny, laminated sign warned me would sound. It didn't come, of course, which some part of me knew all along, really. Ghosts could do anything – sometimes it just wasn't fair.

A slight drizzle was coming down, which wouldn't have been nearly as bad had the wind not been viciously tearing at the roof-top garden terrace (maybe _that's_ why the alarm didn't sound), the plants blowing fiercely but staying miraculously rooted. Zephyrus pulled me to the middle of the tiled mosaic and stopped. Unaccustomed to this lack of motion, I kept going a good few inches before the grip he had on my wrist tugged me back. I allowed myself a peek into his pretty features again, but they were peeking back at me – and they weren't as pretty as usual. His glowing caramel skin had been tinged an eerie, sickly grey, his gaze was cast upward, and what I'd once thought were beautifully defined cheekbones now appeared too harsh, too sharp for my liking. He continued to stare, and after a moment's hesitation I followed his gaze.

Flying, actually _flying_, just above us was well-muscled, extremely chiseled, heavily bearded, _winged_ man. His eyes, thought I couldn't see them nearly as well as I could Zephyrus', were hard set, his brow low and stern, jaw tightened but somewhat relaxed at the same time. Zephyrus spoke again, but I couldn't take my eyes off this man. "That is my brother, Boreas, god of the north wind. He is not pleased, I can tell. Susannah Simon, you must find him and discover what troubles him, for my time of isolation is not yet finished."

Wait. _What?!_

"Excuse me," I said, my voice tinny and somewhat scared sounding. I finally took my eyes off of Boreas and returned them to Zephyrus' hardened features. "I have to _what?_ How do you expect me to even catch this guy? And wait… he's… he's a ghost like you!" At this spectacularly obvious revelation, Zephyrus merely nodded. "Well, listen here buddy… I'm no expert. Maybe with ground ghosts, but jeez, the guy's got wings. And what do you mean, your time of isolation isn't finished?" I knitted my brows, already perplexed.

"I do not have time to answer such foolish question," Zephyrus said, his own brow twitching slightly. The way he spoke, though, sounded as if he'd spat his words at me rather than whispered. He glanced down at me and I set my jaw, returning his gaze with a stubborn expression, though I felt more scared than stubborn. He sighed. "Nor do I have time to wait out these next two weeks unaided. Susannah Simon, a very long time ago I committed an unspeakable deed. Boreas casted me away in isolation for centuries to come, but he has been lenient. I have been free to roam the earth as I please, but contact with my brothers has been severely prohibited. Now, however, I fear something is amiss – I know I am right, as Boreas knows, too, that all is not well. I cannot face him or my isolation will be extended centuries further; therefore, I need you to make contact with him and discover what is trouble is to come."

I admit it – my mouth, by that time, was fully agape. For once, I had no quip on the tip of my tongue, no sarcastic remarks or arguments of any sort. Though I'm fairly certain I would have thought of _something_, had Boreas not turned his intensely alarming gaze on Zephyrus in that exact moment of my silence. The clouds above rumbled threateningly. Zephyrus' arms wrapped around me lightning fast, and suddenly Boreas turned toward us and beat his great, ivory wings, and we were blown backward with enough force to propel us, the _wrong_ way, through the roof access door. It flew from it's hinges, the last dregs of Boreas' angry wind whipping it violently through the air and sending it spinning over the side of the hotel.

Zephyrus had cushioned most of my fall, but I knew he was gone when I felt the distinct cold hardness of concrete at my back. The faint, irate sound of a car alarm drifted up on the wind and met my ears, but by then everything had gone black.

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**Thanks to any who have stuck with this pathetically stinted story - and especially thank you to Scarlet Redd for insisting I keep this up a bit better. I've got the next chapter completely planned out so it should be up soon. Of course, I won't promise anything - I've already proven to be horribly unreliable.**


	7. Chapter 7

**I know, man, I know… I kind of suck right now. Disappearing is a bad habit of mine; I'm starting to think I must be commitment phobic. But at any rate, I'm here now, right? That is, if those of you who've read this are still sticking around. I would be surprised and eternally grateful, in all honesty, if you are. And now I can only thank you and apologize (or perhaps it would be more fitting to grovel for forgiveness? I don't know, you decide) for the ridiculous time gaps I've put you through.**

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The next morning arrived much slower than I would've liked, under the circumstances. When I finally came to in the roof-access stairwell, I was surrounded by hotel security, whose stony expressions only amplified my fear at waking up to total strangers on chilly concrete instead of a toasty-warm bed. Not that I frequently wake up to strangers in a toasty-warm bed, I mean. Actually, I've never done that. And considering I have Jesse for life (and guys in his era have a pretty good track-record with sticking to relationships) I don't really plan on it in the near future. But I suppose that day was my one exception.

Excluding the toasty-warm bed, unfortunately.

It probably would have been a billion times worse if Andy and my mom had shared the security guards' less-than-friendly appearances, but they were just the opposite when they bustled into view the moment my eyes opened wide enough to discern their faces. Mom was beside herself with worry, hands clammy and white over her even paler cheeks, eyes red (I really hoped she hadn't been crying, but she never said and I didn't want to ask) and hair askew in the way it only is when she's run her hands through it too many times to count. Andy looked haggard, concerned, and only a teensy bit mad, but that was outweighed by evident curiosity at how on Earth I'd managed to land myself in this mess. Or maybe he was wondering how I'd single-handedly dismembered a steel door from its equally steely frame.

At least, that's what cop-guys were wondering. They prattled on in Greek (well, I think it was Greek – I _assume_ so, anyway, considering the location. I haven't actually heard too many people speak it, except a cab driver at the airport who was yelling at some lady, and a few passersby in the hotel, but I wasn't really paying attention to either of them), evidently completely oblivious to my obvious injuries (mostly mental/emotional, probably, but my head _did_ hurt) until some snappy translator in a chic looking power suit cut them off, addressing me in a slick, oily voice that fit perfectly with the well-oiled-machine look she must have been going for.

"Susannah?" she said to me, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of her tone. The bridge of her nose had that tiny, almost imperceptible wrinkle in it that adults sometimes get when they don't really want to talk to kids but they kind of have to. I was thinking then (though it was kind of hard to think when my temples kept pulsing like spasmodic drumbeats) that this was a lady who didn't deal much with kids, and didn't particularly care for it either. "Susannah, my name is Cicely Michael-Ross, I'm the Hotel Alexandros' attorney. I handle guest-infractions and damages caused by guests. I'd like to-"

What she'd like to do, I didn't get a chance to find out. Andy sidestepped one of the guards and squeezed into the minuscule space between Miss Cicely Michael-Ross and me. "Now, just hold on a minute Miss Ross," Andy started, apparently oblivious to the whole hyphenated surname rules. "We don't know that Susannah _did_ cause any of these damages."

His mouth was poised as if he was going to say more, but nothing else came out – right then, I didn't think Andy really believed in me that much. I mean, it was nice of him to try, but what more could he really say? Suze is a good kid, she doesn't do anything wrong? Because _that'd_ be a big fat lie – not, of course, that Ms. Michael-Ross needed to know that. Fortunately my mother stepped in then – picture of parental anguish though she may be, she was still a successful TV news reporter and knew how to deal with snippy attorneys when she had to.

She smoothed down her hair first, thankfully, then slid in front her husband and me and went off on a tangent I haven't heard since she did that story on how the defense attorney of New York City was doing a pretty crappy job holding up a proper public appearance. Alongside, of course, falsely accusing an alleged-perpetrator of breaking and entering when said perpetrator so _clearly_ wasn't that type of guy. Though, I may have been biased on his behalf – he _was_ exceptionally hot. And Gina knew from experience that he was a great kisser to boot.

I was growing sort of nostalgic listening to my mom rip this Cicely Michael-Ross chick a new one. Okay, so she wasn't _quite_ that harsh, but it was pretty impressive that she managed to come up with almost a dozen explanations as to how this whole door relocation bit could have possibly happened without my involvement, all in under two minutes.

Needless to say, Ms. Michael-Ross backed off and let the cops handle the fact finding. She only spoke when some sort of translating transaction was needed, but she kept her tone pretty professional despite the obvious lack of respect she was certainly feeling for my mom, Andy and me.

They let me sit up, which was good because that part where my lower spine meets my pelvis (I should _really_ pay attention in Anatomy) was starting to go numb. They also had some ice chips in a little paper cup for me. I wasn't really sure how that was meant to help, but I ate some anyway – only to realize how ridiculously _dry_ my throat was! I must have taken in quite a lungful of that Boreas guy's wind…

Though this, of course, only reminded me of how I'd gotten into this predicament in the first place. Well… the actual _how_ and _why_ were a bit fuzzy, to tell you the truth. I'm not sure why I followed Zephyrus – maybe it was the whole "I'm the god of the West Wind" thing, or just the simple fact that he was a _god_. God's exude power – or so I'm told – so I suppose he put some strange, divine hold on me to get me to do his bidding. Or get me to listen to him at least. I wasn't too sure yet whether or not I was going to be doing his bidding. I was supposed to be helping this Eurus guy, wasn't I?

I'm not sure why it didn't hit then. The pieces were falling together into neat little stacks. I only needed to look at them – _glance_, really – to see the connection.

But I suppose, having hit my head pretty hard, that the thinking and puzzling and discerning components of my brain weren't all in place just yet. Which was probably a good thing, because when the cops started asking me a bunch of question about why I was up on the roof-top terrace and how exactly the door had been torn from its hinges and tossed carelessly onto a car below, I didn't even have to pretend that I was all muddled and confused and what not. My eyes were acting really funny and squinty and my vision was kind of spinning so that I felt really unbalanced. When I started putting my hands out to make sure I wasn't about to fall – though jeez, I was only sitting – my mom and Andy thought it was about time I get out of the stairwell and get my head checked out by some medical professional.

I waggled my fingers and Ms. Cicely Michael-Ross as Andy and my mom supported my weight down the stairs. She pursed her lips and informed my stepfather that she would be in touch with the local police and with the hotel, and that we needn't worry about damage costs until everything was all sorted out. I don't think this was meant to be reassuring, even though she made her voice all honey and butter. Though it was more like poisoned, sickly sweet honey than anything remotely sincere.

The whole time I was freezing my gym-shorts clad butt off in the stairwell, I hadn't once wondered – aloud or to myself – where Jesse was, and why he wasn't with Andy and my mom, flying off the handle about my stupidity and recklessness and all the other things he flies off the handle about. Which was strange, I tell you, because there's never really been a time when Jesse didn't happen to be around that I _wasn't_ wondering where he was. Even if I actually knew, it was still always tugging at my subconscious, like my mind wasn't really at ease until I knew he was near and (hopefully) safe.

So it came as a bit of a surprise when my mom pushed open the door to the main hallway and Jesse glanced up quickly and caught my eye. He had evidently been burning a hole in the carpet with some pretty incessant pacing, if the way his body had abruptly stopped was any indicator. But when my eyes finally focused in on his face, the expression I found chiseled alongside his high cheekbones and smoldering inside his ocher eyes made me hate myself. All I could think at that moment was how _selfish_ I was, making him worry as he must have been. I didn't understand why he hadn't been with Andy and my mom until I threw myself (or rather, stumbled blindly) into his arms and caught a quick glimpse of my mom in the process.

It was only too clear from her expression that she must have asked Jesse to wait behind with my stepbrothers or something.

But I didn't care. All I could do was cling to him tightly – and thankfully he'd forgone whatever inhibitions he had around my parents and had clung right back – and murmur softly, while I stroked the curling hair at the back of his neck, "I'm so sorry, Jesse."

Needless to say this was obviously too much for Andy and my mom.

I personally think they were just feeling a tad bitter because I hadn't gotten around to apologizing to _them_ yet, but Andy cleared his throat sternly and my mom gently – if not forcefully – unwound my arms from around Jesse's neck and tugged me to her side. Her arm was around my waist in a vice-like grip as she led me, faltering over my two left feet, down the length of the hall toward the elevators. "Let's see about getting you that doctor, shall we?" she said, perhaps not as maternally and sympathetically as before.

I could only nod and step into the lift (as they like to call elevators in Europe) after her, Jesse's caramel-colored hand stopping the door a moment later and inevitably reminding me of Zephyrus, and what exactly we were going to do about him.

-----

It was only a few hours later that it hit me, which was okay with me because I had a _little_ bit of time to recuperate before I had to gallivanting off with my boyfriend, searching Athens for some winged dead guy.

Well, okay, we weren't about to do that just yet. I was still recovering from what the doctor said was a minor but malevolent concussion, which meant that I wouldn't be hospitalized but that I couldn't go to sleep for a while in case I slipped off into a coma and never woke up again.

Yeah, remind me to thank Boreas once we tracked him down.

I, of course, could think of a few things to do to keep me from dozing off – most of which involved full cooperation from my apparently unwilling boyfriend – but my mom beat Jesse to the punch. Well, beat _me_ to the punch I suppose. Jesse hadn't exactly made any suggestions and, despite the loving grip he had on my hands (or my waist or my shoulders, when he could get to them), only stared at me impassively when I opted for a perfectly reasonable game of tonsil hockey.

Of course, I clarified when I realized he might not have caught my drift, what with the twenty-first century lingo and all, but he only rolled his eyes and turned back to the television screen.

It had been my mom's idea for Jesse and I to watch some movies on the pay-per-view so that I stayed awake until it was safe enough for me to sleep. Well, not so much Jesse and I as Jesse, Sleepy, Dopey, Doc and I. Which wouldn't have been that bad except that we were in Sleepy and Dopey's room, which already smelled bad, and Dopey wouldn't stop grumbling about all of us "invading his privacy" – as if he had any privacy with Sleepy there too. But he was ruining the movie. Which happened to be _Jaws_, actually, one of Jesse's favorites.

Except that he couldn't keep his eyes off of me. Jesse, I mean.

Normally I would have flushed with anticipation at whatever it was that was making him ignore one of his all time favorite movies in favor of gazing into my eyes instead, but this gaze was more discerning than lascivious – not, of course, that Jesse's gaze was ever significantly lascivious towards me. I _wish_.

So instead of premature excitement mounting in the pit of my stomach, I only felt this sort of disconcertment and slight confusion as to why, exactly, he was looking at me like that. "What's up with you?" I whispered, trying not to draw any attention from the unwanted spectators surrounding us. Luckily it was at that scene where the all the men were showing each other their scars – something, evidently, that all guys understood and couldn't help watching intently. And something that made me furrow my brow and tighten my grip on Jesse's hand, cause that scene was like his favorite part. And he was still looking at me like that.

"Susannah, what happened?"

I wasn't sure why he asked me that, because I'd told him already. I'd told him all about Zephyrus and Boreas and I'd even reiterated the scene with Eurus in the airplane. I hadn't left out _anything_, either, except the whole Zephyrus dazzling me part. I'd told him how Boreas had seen old Zephyr and me on the rooftop and had sent us gusting through the stairwell and had blow the hinges off the security door and everything. "Jesse, I already explained everything," I said, perplexed.

But Jesse just shook his head, and when his eyes found mine again I realized that he hadn't been directing that look at _me_. I think I was just the general direction he'd been staring into when that look appeared on his face. Which was at least comforting, even if my realization of what that look turned out to be was not.

I almost groaned – I really did. Except that it would not have the desired effect I was going for, which would be Jesse just dropping the whole thing and turning back to _Jaws_, because Jesse was already too far gone. He didn't need to continue his query because I understood it now, but he did anyway, confirming my fears. Well, maybe not fears, but anxiety at the _least_. "Susannah, what happened with Zephyrus? Why was he exiled?"

You might wonder why this particular question struck a chord of unease that resonated deep inside me. After all, Zephyrus' exile was _not_ the main issue here. But it was one of them. Because if we figured that out, we would figure everything else out, and we could help the four wind brothers move on to where ever they were going.

Because it hit me, then, that that's what they were. The four winds, I mean. Brothers, gods; one for each cardinal direction the wind took. That is to say, I'd only run into three, but Mr. South Wind was bound to join the fun soon enough. And when he did, Jesse and I would have a full plate of spectral goodies to look after and escort along their journey to their final destination. It was inevitable. Which was why, after a lengthy debate with myself and a final, wistful sigh for all the vacationing time I'd be missing out on, I turned to Jesse, my hand rising to touch his soft cheek, and said, "I don't know, but we'd better find out."


End file.
